


how, or when, or from where

by cosmicocean



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Natasha Feels, clintasha-centric, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicocean/pseuds/cosmicocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can see it immediately, doesn’t need Annabel trembling on his shoulder and whimpering his name to tell him. If she were in anything but the bare essentials he might think her clothes were just disguising them, just hiding. But Romanoff’s increasingly red undergarments can hide nothing.</p><p>“Sir,” Clint says. “This woman doesn’t have a daemon.”</p><p>Or the weird daemon/soulmate hybrid Clintasha AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how, or when, or from where

Annabel likes to stand by Clint’s feet on missions, still and silent as the grave. She can’t see usually when she does, but her cottontail ears can hear better than most of the daemons (or people) Clint’s ever met, and that works the best for them. Whenever there’s someone coming, she’ll immediately twitch against his leg and he’ll know to be on his guard.

Even saying that, Clint’s never seen her this agitated on a mission.

“Barton,” Coulson says in his ear. “Take the building, get the mark-“

“Hold up, Coulson. Annabel’s twitchy.”

Coulson falls silent. He and Clint have been working together five years, and that’s enough for Coulson to trust Annabel’s judgement. He can practically see in his mind Pamela stilling on Coulson’s shoulder, her ringed tail going rigid.

“Hey,” Clint says gently, looking down at Annabel. “Annabel, come on. What’s going on?”

“There’s something wrong.” Annabel is running in a tiny circle sharply, then stopping, ears pricked tight, and then circling again. “There’s something- Clint, something’s not right.” Her voice is more scared than he’s ever heard it, the Midwestern in her voice peeking out in her unrest. “Clint, something’s _wrong_.”

“Is it just the mark? Are there more of them?” He glances over the edge of the roof to check and see what’s going on.

“No, it’s just the mark, but _Clint-_ “ She freezes briefly, then jumps up on his shoulder, quivering, just as someone drops in front of him.

The woman looks to be about five years younger than him, red hair wild and tangled. Her green eyes are wide and terrified. She’s wearing only a white sports bra and underwear, splattered with red. There’s a deep cut on her shoulder, blood dripping in front of him. She grabs the arrow and points it directly at her forehead.

Clint’s seen pictures of the Black Widow, the graceful Natasha Romanoff. She is composed and she is deadly. This woman is neither.

“Do it,” she hisses through clenched teeth. “Take the shot.”

“Barton, if the target’s in sight-“

“Hang on, sir.” 

He can see it immediately, doesn’t need Annabel trembling on his shoulder and whimpering his name to tell him. If she were in anything but the bare essentials he might think her clothes were just disguising them, just hiding. But Romanoff’s increasingly red undergarments can hide nothing.

“Sir,” Clint says. “This woman doesn’t have a daemon.”

There’s that crackling sort of silence that Clint’s come to associate with Coulson gaining new information.

“You _have_ to do it,” Romanoff insists in a growl. “You have to do it now, in case I change my mind.”

“Understood, Barton. Take the shot.”

“Sir, she’s-“

“I know, Clint. You have to complete the mission.”

“Phil-“

“ _Hawkeye._ Eliminate the target.”

Clint stares at Romanoff, whose jaw has clenched even tighter and eyes are threatening to spill tears.

“Barton-“

“Annabel,” he says. Even though he’s never done this before, Annabel immediately knows what he wants. She smacks the com out of his ear and he neatly steps on it as he lowers his bow and sets it on his back, arrow sliding into the quiver. Romanoff stares at him in utter confusion.

“Hi,” he says. “You like waffles?”

 

Clint tapes her shoulder cut in an alley by the building they were standing on.

“I keep the gauze in my belt, just in case,” he explains while she watches him warily. “Annabel and I get cut up sometimes.” She doesn’t give any acknowledgement so he tries another tack. “What happened to your shoulder?”

She sketches a shrug a tiny bit with her opposite shoulder. “Cut it.”

“Yeah, I guessed, but how?”

“Told you. Cut it open.”

He pauses. “ _You_ cut it open?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The Red Room puts chips in us. I didn’t want it any more.”

“They chip you?” Like pets.

“Yes.”

Clint resumes wrapping her shoulder. “Definitely get waffles for that, then,” he mutters with a small sigh.

“Why are you helping me?” Her eyes keep flickering to Annabel, so she speaks up.

“You didn’t have a daemon.” Annabel’s eyes are flickering too, back and forth to next to Romanoff, where a daemon could have been. 

“Plenty of people have seen me lacking one. The ones that were not too startled have had no difficulty killing me.”

“Yeah, well, they were wrong.” 

She tilts her head. “Is it that you view something to be wrong with me? That I am missing and lacking in something? You wish to fix me?”

“No, you’ve got it all wrong.” Clint shakes his head vigorously. “We don’t want to fix you, Romanoff. We just want to help. Anyone that splits a daemon from you isn’t someone doing right by you. You’re not in this for them, not for yourself. You’re in it cause they’re making you. They’ve forced you to abandon your daemon. And that means you deserve someone to extend a hand.” He finishes wrapping her shoulder. “Okay, you’re done. If you want to bolt, best to do it now before SHIELD catches up with you.”

She stares at him then bites her lip slightly and mumbles.

“What?”

“Natasha. My name’s Natasha.”

Clint gives Natasha a big delighted grin as Annabel twitches a little closer. Clint knows she’s thinking something over, he can’t tell what yet, but she too seems pleased. “Hi, Natasha. My name’s Clint.”

She smiles hesitantly. It’s a good look on her, and one Clint’s guessing hasn’t been seen often. “You mentioned waffles?”

 

Natasha is wolfing down waffles in the diner while Annabel is sitting next to her in the booth (Clint suspects he knows what she’s thinking about doing now, but he won’t say a word, not until she’s ready) with Clint across from her, wearing his long coat to hide her underwear, when men in suits quietly start sitting in the near empty restaurant. He sees Natasha getting steadily fidgetier and fidgetier.

“If you want to go, do it now,” he says. Natasha shakes her head very quickly. 

Finally, both Coulson and Director Fury sweep in, which is a sure sign that Clint is _fucked_. Pamela’s sitting on Coulson’s shoulder, rigid with barely contained fury, tail held like an antenna in the air. Brielle swoops behind Fury, her golden eagle feathers only slightly puffed, betraying hardly anything. Natasha looks up at them with something akin to fear.

“Director Fury, Agent Coulson, Pamela, Brielle,” Clint says as calmly as he can. “Want some pancakes? I’d offer you waffles but Natasha seems pretty occupied with hers.”

“Agent Barton,” Coulson says, voice seemingly close to trembling with anger. “Why didn’t you assassinate the target?”

Fury says nothing, watching in what appears to be contemplative silence.

Clint stands. “I don’t know, sir. Why didn’t you send me in with all the information?”

The next two or three minutes is a blur of yelling, Coulson bellowing at Clint about orders and targets and _taking her in_ and Clint shouting back because he can’t explain it but _he will be damned if they touch a hair on Natasha Romanoff’s head_ when suddenly

the world

doesn’t quite _spin_

but it doesn’t

stay still

either.

Clint turns around slowly to see that Annabel has burrowed herself into Natasha’s side, face pressed into her ribs. Everyone is gazing in shock, Natasha included. Natasha hesitantly reaches down. She looks up at Clint, who shrugs a little helplessly. She barely brushes Annabel’s fur before she buries her fingers in it. Clint’s knees don’t buckle, but he feels a little weak nonetheless, feeling a wave of hesitancy and uncertainty and wonder and hope all at once, emotions he knows aren’t his own. Natasha stares down at Annabel, stares at the way her fingers tangle in her soft and calm form and then up at Clint. She and Clint just look at each other, and for some reason Clint feels like the world had ground to a halt, like it is held by the woman with her fingers curled slightly in the fur of his daemon.

“Dammit,” Coulson mutters, sounding slightly resigned.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Fury asks in a slightly amused tone (Clint has a nagging suspicion that since the phone call came in about what Clint did that Fury has been anticipating this cause Fury anticipates _everything_ ). “Would you happen to like a job?”

Pamela groans while Brielle snorts. 

 

Clint’s not an idiot. He knows what’s going on here. He’s heard of this in people, how sometimes you’ll meet someone and you’re connected forever from that point forwards. He’s just not, well.

He’s just not the sort of person he would think it would happen to, is all.

He tries to give Natasha her space for the first week she’s at SHIELD, but he can’t do it. He and Annabel go to her room, which is _far_ more like a cell than Clint’s really comfortable with. The guard immediately lets him in. Clint guesses Fury has something to do with that.

Natasha’s sitting and reading a trashy romance novel in her cell. She looks up at his entrance.

“Would’ve thought you’d only read highbrow kind of stuff,” Clint says, nodding at the book.

“We were only allowed books in the Room that were necessary or intellectual.” Her lips form the ghost of a smile. “This is neither.”

Clint and Annabel sit across from her. Natasha’s fingers twitch slightly, like she wants to reach out.

“It’s okay.” Annabel nudges herself forwards a little. “You can.”

Natasha brushes Annabel’s fur a little with her fingers. Annabel hops until she’s in Natasha’s lap. Natasha starts petting her. It’s not as dizzying as it was the first time. Instead it’s almost comforting, soothing.

“This is very strange,” Natasha murmurs. 

“Good strange or bad strange?” Annabel asks, burrowing slightly into Natasha’s chest.

“I think… I think good strange.”

“You’ll find yourself saying that a lot about Clint.”

“Hey,” Clint protests. Natasha doesn’t laugh, but her lips move like she wants to.

“I want to know about you,” she says. “Tell me about Clint Barton and Annabel.”

“Well…” Clint scratches his head. “I was in the circus.”

Natasha does smile then, and it’s so beautiful it almost takes Clint’s breath away. “You were not.”

“I was too.”

“People don’t _actually_ run away to join the circus anymore.”

“We’re not people.”

Clint tells her stories from the circus, tells her about shooting arrows on fire and backflipping off elephants. Natasha even laughs at one point, her whole body shaking with it, and Clint’s grateful for that because that means she probably can’t see how elated he is that he made her laugh.

 

“We’re going to let her out of her cell,” Coulson tells Clint. 

“About damn time,” Annabel says. Clint agrees wholeheartedly.

“But we want you to keep an eye on her.” Coulson grins a little. Pamela pokes her ring tailed mongoose head out of the pocket in Coulson’s suit jacket she’s been known to hide in. “We thought that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“No, sir.”

 

“DAHHHH DAH DAH DAH DAH DAHHHHH DAH,” Clint sings along to the _Star Wars_ main theme. Natasha elbows him with the arm that doesn’t have Annabel sitting in the crook of her arm. Annabel often sits on Natasha when she and Clint are together. Annabel says there’s something calming about it, something soothing about being in Natasha’s presence. Clint understands what she means. When he’s around Natasha there’s a sort of balance he can’t explain.

“If you sing over the music and quote the whole thing, I won’t be able to understand what’s going on,” she says sternly.

Clint heaves an overdramatic sigh. “ _Fine._ ”

That’s how it goes for a little while. Clint introduces Natasha to pop culture and she absorbs it like a sponge. 

Eventually, he plucks up the courage to tell her the truth.

“I killed people for a while, too,” he confesses, Annabel anxiously tapping her hind leg. “For hire. I needed to escape the circus.”

Natasha’s eyes are non-judgemental. “Did you really think I would judge you, Clint?”

Annabel’s leg stops tapping.

 

Natasha’s hair is ever changing. One week it is long and curly, the next she has a buzzcut. 

“Why?” Annabel asks one day while she and Clint are watching her shave her head into an undercut. 

“I wasn’t allowed to change my hair in the Red Room.” Natasha neatly sweeps the hair into a dustpan and into the trash. “I like doing it now.”

Annabel and Clint look at each other.

“Clint’ll paint your nails,” Annabel says.

“I’m really good at it,” he adds. “I’m kind of a nail art connoisseur.”

Natasha grins. “I’d like that.”

Clint paints her nails so it looks like a blood red sunrise. Natasha seems delighted. When she tires of that, he does them pink with black polka dots and glitter.

 

Clint never asks her what it feels like to be without a daemon, or what it was like to be split from hers, but one day she tells him anyway.

“Many of the girls died,” she tells him when they are comfortably seated on Clint’s couch in his apartment, Natasha lying down with her feet in Clint’s lap. “They couldn’t handle it. I saw it. Their daemons just… disappeared. Just like that.”

Annabel shivers and burrows a little deeper into Natasha’s arm. She strokes Annabel absently.

“I survived. So did my daemon. I don’t know what happened to him. I assume they killed him. I’ll never know what his final form was.”

“Do you remember his name?” Clint asks. Natasha’s quiet for a moment.

“Lyosha,” she says finally. “He was called Lyosha.”

Clint doesn’t say he’s sorry. He knows she doesn’t want to hear it.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” she murmurs. Clint reaches over and squeezes her hand.

“Thank you for telling me.”

She smiles wanly. “You’re welcome.”

 

Six months in, Clint realizes he can’t explain how fast and hard he’s fallen for Natasha Romanoff, only that he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

 

They go on missions together and work flawlessly without trying, like they’d always been meant to be paired together. After missions, Annabel will curl up in Natasha’s lap, calming all three of them.

One day, when Annabel is asleep on Clint’s bed in their shared hotel room in Sarajevo, Clint is bandaging Natasha’s shoulder. It’s a lot worse than she originally mentioned to their contact. Clint gently patches her up, washes off the blood. She barely winces the whole time.

“You know,” Clint murmurs. “You don’t have to cover up your pain all the time. Everyone knows how tough you are.”

She looks at him as she pulls on a tank top over her bra, startled. 

“Don’t look so surprised. You know you’re my best friend, right?” He swallows, suddenly uncertain. “My, uh, my best everything, actually.”

She gazes at him for a moment, then kisses him, very gently and sweetly. Clint kisses her back a little gingerly, not wanting to hurt her shoulder, and because of her injury she holds herself very stiffly. It’s the happiest Clint’s ever been in his life, and the best kiss he’s ever had.

 

They never say they love each other. They know.

 

They get separated for different missions eventually. Natasha is to go and monitor Tony Stark, and there’s some weird hammer in New Mexico that Clint’s got to go keep an eye on with Coulson and Pamela. Clint kisses Natasha goodbye, and she kisses the top of Annabel’s head, and then she is gone.

A blond giant comes to the site of the hammer crash (it fell from the sky because apparently this is the world now) with his huge daemon in the form of a gray wolf and attempts to take it. He totally knocks out Coulson’s asshole security detail, so when Clint tells Coulson “I’m beginning to root for this guy”, he 100% means it. 

Natasha calls him later that morning. 

“Stark and his daemon Adrienna know I don’t have one,” she tells him. “I’m not pleased.”

“Want me to tell you the story of how this huge blond dude named Thor and his daemon Annika totally fucking kicked the asses of Coulson’s security detail to take your mind off it?”

He can hear the smile in her voice. “Was Henderson in it?”

“Oh man, he was and he went down _hard_.”

“Good. Henderson’s a dick.”

 

Clint kind of feels like he’s floating, almost. Floating in tranquility. Everything’s so _clear_ now. It’s marvelous.

“Tell me about Romanoff,” Loki says, and a little voice in Clint’s head starts screaming, begging him to keep his mouth shut, _anything but Nat._ He ignores it.

“She’s daemonless,” he tells him. Loki’s eyebrows shoot up and his daemon, some sort of hawk perched on his shoulder named Audhild, ruffles her feathers at them.

“Really?”

“She finds comfort in me,” Annabel adds, just as eager to please Loki as Clint is. “We used to find comfort in her.”

Loki tilts his head. “Is she useful?”

“She’s the deadliest person we know.”

Loki nods slowly. “I will spare her,” he declares. “You and she may reign over a part of this world, once it is mine.”

Clint is pleased. Natasha will feel as calm as he and Annabel do, and all will be well.

 

When he fights Natasha, he is disappointed, but what must be done for Loki must be done. When he hits his head, Annabel slumps to the ground from where she’d been trying to bite at Natasha, and the world, which had been blue around the edges, returns to sickening Technicolor. 

“Natasha?” he mumbles. She hits him again.

 

When he wakes up, everything is awful.

“We told him you have no daemon,” he mumbles. Natasha pushes some of his hair out of his face, eyes soft.

“I know, _dorogoy._ ”

She knows. That means Loki talked to her. He wants to throw up. Annabel is trembling beside him.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she says, before either of them can say anything. She reaches out and gently runs her fingers through Annabel’s fur. Annabel flinches, then relaxes into it. “It’s Loki’s fault, not yours.”

 

She tells him about Coulson. He thinks of Pamela puffing into nothingness like so many daemons he’s seen before and feels sick. He doesn’t cry, but Natasha holds him tightly all the same.

 

Rogers’s daemon is a Saint Bernard named Saorise. She eyes Clint up thoughtfully when Rogers comes to get them, then looks up at him and nods. Rogers seems to relax at her silent approval. As they walk, Clint says “uh, sorry. For the. You know. Everything.”

Rogers shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, Clint. You were mind controlled. It happens.”

_It happens._ The world is a weird place.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Annabel asks Saorise. If a Saint Bernard could smile, Clint’s pretty sure she would be.

“Steve’s smart mouth does enough talking for the both of us,” she answers.

“Careful,” Rogers says with a slight smile.

Rogers leads them to Stark, whose daemon is fluttering around his head, her flecked with emerald wings operating at their natural hummingbird speed, the patch of purple on her neck vibrating as she talks rapid-fire at Stark, some science stuff Clint doesn’t understand. Stark glances up when he sees them enter.

“Hey, Clint and Annabel, right? Tony and Adrienna. So I got your bow and arrows out of SHIELD holding, got you even more arrows, in fact, so we can all have a nice little fun time while you shoot things, hopefully Loki.”

“Works for me.”

“Rogers, didn’t touch your shield, what with it being a relic and all.” 

Rogers looks amused. “Thanks.”

“Ignore him.” Adrienna flitters up to him. “He’s on three cups of coffee and two hours of sleep, it’s a goddamn miracle he’s alive.”

Rogers frowns. “Tony, you’re only on-“

Tony points at Adrienna. “You, no longer allowed to speak. I’m making a special hummingbird muzzle, next chance I get.”

Adrienna snorts. “Good luck getting it on me.”

“Tony-“

Tony waves Rogers off. “Steve, if the world isn’t invaded by an asshole with terrible taste in helmets, I’ll sleep. Deal?”

Rogers looks grudging but he nods. “Deal.”

“Cool beans.” Tony claps Rogers on the shoulder. “Let’s go get ‘em, gang. Are we a gang now?”

“Avengers.” It’s the first time Natasha’s spoken since they entered the room. Everyone looks at her. “For Phil.”

They all nod and murmur “for Phil”.

 

Fighting with all of them is a new experience for Clint, in some ways. Thor and Annika show up, Annika regally dipping her head to Annabel and Clint as Thor clobbers an alien.

“We are pleased that you are no longer under the control of our brother,” she tells them. “Welcome back, Clinton.”

“Thanks,” Clint says. “Clint is fine.”

And then Bruce Banner comes in, and Clint watches him transform into the Hulk, watches his red squirrel daemon that Clint hears him referring to as Iona transform into what looks almost like a giant housecoat, except it’s wreaking unholy havoc on the aliens. He’s kind of impressed.

But fighting with Natasha? That’s old habits, that’s old tricks. Clint knows what he’s doing, and when they save the world, it feels like a breath of fresh air and home all at once.

 

“So I’m thinking we should all live in the Tower,” Tony says when he shows up at Clint and Natasha’s apartment. “I’ll give you and the mister a whole floor to yourselves, if you want.”

Natasha looks at Clint. “Do we really need a whole floor?”

“I like the idea of a whole floor.” Clint grins. “You got a shooting range?”

“With flying targets, Robin Hood.”

Clint and Natasha look at each other.

 

Annabel is bounding around the new floor. “This place is _huge_ ,” she says in delight. “Can you imagine, Clint? We came from a small tent in the circus and now we have a whole floor.” She hops up to Natasha. “Nat, this is _awesome._ ”

Natasha smiles. “It is, Annabel.”

Clint walks up to where the two of them are, gazing out the window. 

“This is good,” he murmurs.

“This is good,” Natasha echoes fondly, tangling her fingers in Clint’s hair.

 

They’re fighting HYDRA in the Alaskan wilderness where they have a base. They’ve all learned to fight together well at this point, to _trust_ each other. 

This is evidenced by the insane fact that Clint is on the Hulk’s shoulder, shooting at HYDRA agents.

“Please don’t drop me, big guy!” Clint yells.

“NO YELLING IN HULK’S EAR!”

“That’s a fair trade.”

Natasha is about to be taken down by a HYDRA agent she can’t see, grappling with another one. Clint raises his bow, aims-

A giant tiger leaps out of the woods with a roar, taking down the agent. Natasha whips around and freezes.

“What the fuck?” Clint hears from Tony in his ear.

“Agreed,” Steve concurs. “Can someone see if the animal is hostile?”

“Don’t shoot,” Natasha says. Her voice is sharp in a way Clint’s never quite heard before. “The animal is friendly. I repeat, don’t shoot.”

The tiger dips his head to Natasha and attacks another agent.

“Clint,” Annabel whispers. “Clint, do you think that’s-“

“Don’t think about it right now, just focus.”

The mission is completed, and Natasha kneels in the snow in front of the tiger. With a trembling hand, she reaches out and runs her fingers through his fur. The tiger leans into it as the Avengers gather around her.

“Lyosha,” she whispers.

“Hello, Natalia,” her daemon rumbles in reply.

 

“I searched for you for a long time,” Lyosha says while they’re in the Quinjet, everyone listening intently. Natasha still has a hand on him, like if she takes it away he’ll disappear. “I knew I could not reach you while you were in the Room. When I witnessed you after the Battle of New York, I began making my way towards you.”

“You’re an amur tiger.” Natasha looks wondering. “I always wondered… you’re an amur tiger.”

“Uh, hi,” Clint says. “I’m Clint. It’s, uh, nice to meet you. This is Annabel.”

Lyosha nods. “I know who you are, Clinton Barton. You are important to Natalia. It is my honor to meet you.” He dips his head and brushes his nose against Annabel’s. “Hello, little one.”

Annabel is pleased. “Hello, Lyosha.”

 

Natasha and Lyosha adapt to being together once more slowly, but gracefully. Lyosha is known to prowl the Tower halls, roaming around and interacting freely with the other daemons. Adrienna likes to pester him, often flitting around his head. He seems amused by the hummingbird.

Annabel, however, is Lyosha’s constant companion. Often perched on his back or his head, the two of them engage in surprisingly quiet conversations, always speaking in low murmurs to each other.

“It’s not quite the same,” Natasha tells Clint when their daemons are curled up together, Annabel’s ears twitching and Lyosha’s tail flicking idly in sleep. “Not like when Lyosha and I were still connected. But I think it’s enough.”

Clint smiles. His fingers are interlocked with Natasha’s, his head in her lap. “Enough is good.”

She smiles back. “Very good.”

The four of them lie like that, quiet in the moments of perfect stillness.

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! I'm back!
> 
> Annabel, Clint's Daemon: http://www.ct.gov/deep/lib/deep/wildlife/images/outreach/fact_sheets/cottontail.jpg  
> Pamela, Coulson's Daemon: http://www.theanimalfiles.com/images/ring_tailed_mongoose_1.jpg  
> Brielle, Fury's Daemon: http://www.wildechotours.com/pic/gallery/medium/Golden-Eagle_4_medium.jpg  
> Lyosha, Natasha's Daemon: http://nl.media.rbth.ru/web/rs-rbth/images/2012-08/big/Tiger_468.jpg  
> Iona, Bruce's Daemon (pre-transformation): http://cdni.wired.co.uk/620x413/o_r/redsquirrel.jpg  
> Iona, Bruce's Daemon (post-transformation): http://www.batterseaparkzoo.co.uk/media/1103/scottish-wildcat-6.jpg?width=1000&upscale=false  
> Saorise, Steve's Daemon: http://s3.amazonaws.com/assets.prod.vetstreet.com/92/94d720a7fc11e0a0d50050568d634f/file/Saint-bernard-3-645mk062811.jpg  
> Adrienna, Tony's Daemon: https://www.audubon.org/sites/default/files/Black-chinned_Hummingbird_b57-13-045_l_0.jpg  
> Annika, Thor's Daemon: http://www-tc.pbs.org/wnet/nature/files/2014/10/GrayWolf-Main-e1415205081524-1280x600.jpg  
> Audhild, Loki's Daemon: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/81/Northern_Goshawk_ad_M2.jpg
> 
> Natasha's nails 1: http://ghk.h-cdn.co/assets/15/36/1441209931-cherry-bomb-ombre-opi-nail-art.jpg  
> Natasha's nails 2: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/g5ISjWGqxIs/maxresdefault.jpg


End file.
